


Towel Off

by fictocriticism



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictocriticism/pseuds/fictocriticism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A response to a fill on the GKM. Basically: Chris and Darren live together and Darren’s nudist post-shower habits are becoming a problem or 5 Times Chris sees naked-Darren after his shower and 1 time he actually does something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Towel Off

“It’s really not a problem, Darren,” Chris said as he pushed open the door. “I know you’ve had problems at that place for a while now, and I never use the spare room anyway.”

  
Darren shuffled in sheepishly with his bag slung over one shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, Colfer. It’s always better to not kill a neighbour, you know? At least not at 6am.”  
  
Chris chuckled, and motioned down the hallway. “Well, make yourself at home.” Darren sauntered off, already at ease, and Chris just knew this would be an easy month.  “And let me know if you need a hand with house hunting. I _love_ visiting open houses!”  
  
“Who else would I take?” Darren yelled from the door of the bedroom.  
  
Chris nodded at this, and headed back to his own bedroom. He hadn’t had time to make the bed before Darren’s frantic early morning phone call. Apparently two weeks of no sleep thanks to a noisy neighbour was enough to send someone a little crazed. Chris had tried gallantly to swallow his laughter at Darren’s appearance when he came to pick him up, but he knew he hadn’t completely succeeded. Darren’s resulting pout hadn’t helped the matter either.  
  
He’d offered his unused guest bedroom up until Darren could find himself a new place. They’d decided a month was a good end date just to make sure Darren didn’t get too comfortable. Not that Chris was too concerned. They got on well, enjoyed each other’s presence, and could carpool to work. It was a win-win situation.  
  
He had just finished straightening the sheets when he heard Darren’s voice in the hallway again. “Man, I’m starving. Want breakfast?”  
  
“Sure,” he yelled back. “Although you might want to shower first. You look like a homeless man.”  
  
Darren appeared in his doorway, openly scrutinising the room. “Nice picture,” he said. Chris just raised his eyebrows at him. The scruff _had_ to go.    
  
“Oh come on, it’s not that bad. It’s just a bit scratchy!” Darren said, self-consciously rubbing his chin.  
  
Chris waited. Then tapped his foot for good measure.  
  
“Fine. _Fine_ , Colfer,” he snarled, stomping out of the room. “You see if I make you bacon now.”  
  
Chris smiled wide enough to show his teeth and shouted, “towels are in the cupboard under the sink!”  
  
“Yes, I fucking know,” Darren grumbled before slamming the bathroom door shut.  
  
 _Thank god_ , Chris thought. One more moment of scruffy Darren would have been a severely awkward situation. At least when he was clean shaven, Chris had better luck pretending he was just his co-worker.  
  
After all, it’s not like he _wanted_ to be mildly crushing on rainbows-and-sunshine Darren. He just, well, _was_.  
  
Only a little.  
  
Chris ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he felt the remains of yesterday’s product, and decided he should start breakfast so he couldn’t hear the water of the shower.  
  
***  
  
Twenty minutes later, Chris was serving up bacon and eggs that he didn’t even make in the microwave for once. Darren better be thankful for his star treatment. It was the most action the kitchen had seen in a while, and it took him a minute to find something to get the bacon out of the pan. Despite a near mishap, he succeeded in two, albeit messy, plates of food.  
  
It was that moment that Darren strolled through the house with nothing but one of the lilac bath towels wrapped around his waist. Chris swallowed hastily, nearly choking on air, and replaced his plate on the counter before it slipped out of his hand.  
  
“Um, Darren?” he asked, tentatively. “Did you forget to bring clothes with you?”  
Darren paused from where he was leaning into the fridge, and Chris let his eyes linger on the way the towel showed off the outline of his ass.  
  
“No?” Darren responded, his confused tone making Chris snort.  
  
“So the towel wearing--, that’s a _thing_?” He waved his hand weakly at the towel his mother gave him that was currently nestling against Darren’s undoubtedly lovely cock. He felt his nostrils flare gently in response to the effort of keeping himself from licking his lips.  
  
“I just like to air dry,” Darren said, as if this is a completely normal thing to do. “You know, let the skin breathe. I feel gross if I try to rush into clothes.”  
  
Chris nodded, lips pursed in thought. He tilted his head carefully, met Darren’s eyes, and then said, “You’re insane.”  
  
Darren smiled. “Yeah, but you already knew that.”  
  
“I guess I did. Breakfast?”  
  
And since breakfast that morning was a special kind of hell while Chris perched awkwardly on the couch next to Darren, their thighs separated by too few layers of material (one of which was _lilac_ ), Chris allowed himself to jerk off quietly in the shower thinking about Darren’s towel slowly slipping off his hips and exposing his gorgeous butt.  
  
Leaning on the shower wall, gasping after a spectacular orgasm, Chris resigned himself to the fact that it was going to be a long month.    
  
***  
  
Chris and Darren both end up with Wednesday off. It was a blessing to have a weekday off, something that only happened every now and again. Chris took advantage of the time to do all the boring things he usually avoids. A quick stop at the bank, the post office, and the grocery store. He normally had stuff delivered, but it was nice to browse the shelves for a change. He kept his head down and was surprisingly only recognised by a young girl in the post office who was too shy to really say anything so he signed the back of a business card and escaped -- although not before she could ask if Darren was as lovely in real life as he seemed on the show.  
  
“Of course he is,” Chris said warmly, ignoring the way his heartbeat increased at the mention of Darren. “He’s genuine and a real pleasure to work with.”  
  
He smiled politely, but hoped the girl wouldn’t ask anything else. She appeared to have succumbed once more to shyness so he waved and hightailed it before she could see the evidence of his crush glowing through his cheeks.    
  
He was walking back to his car when he wondered if he should pick up anything specific for Darren. Maybe he needed something? He might not have had a chance to get out himself lately. Chris dialled his number, hung up, and then dialled again in a fit of indecision, but there was no response. He’d just have to find his own time for shopping if there was something desperate then, Chris rationalised. He tried to ignore the disappointment in his chest at not hearing his voice.  
  
It was when he immediately changed the radio station in the car to Darren’s favourite that he realised he might need an intervention. He should organise a night out with Ashley. She always took his mind off things. Usually by pointing out attractive men and discussing the virtue of gay pornography, but those options were ones Chris could get behind.  
  
***  
  
Ashley took him to a bar close by and loaded him with two long island ice teas. Apparently his desperation hadn’t been as subtle as he had hoped.  
  
“Naked, Ash,” Chris moaned. “S’not fair.”  
  
Ashley patted his arm. Chris thought that maybe it was a little condescending, but he couldn’t quite work out how to respond before she continued talking.  
  
“Yeah, naked Darren is a definite hardship, Colfer. I feel you. That ass is _excellent_.”  
  
Chris straightened up from where had slumped against the bar. “It _is_! That’s the problem!”  
  
Ashley laughed loudly. “Oh baby. You’re trashed. I think I’m going to take you home.”  
  
Chris nodded sagely. This was a good idea. Except--  
  
“Ashley,” he whispered. “I can’t feel my leg.”  
  
Ashley sighed. “Up you get. Let’s get you out of here before someone takes a photo.”  
  
Chris smiled widely as Ashley walked them out, occasionally nodding regally as he passed other patrons. He had bestowed his presence and now he was heading home. This was a good night. He told Ashley as much on the drive home. She just nodded, laughed, and said she would remind him of this tomorrow morning. And every morning after that.  
  
When they pulled up to his door, he waved Ashley off before sliding ungracefully out of the car when his numb leg continued to be offensively numb. Perhaps a little help wouldn’t be such a bad thing, just this once. He let Ashley heave him off the ground, complimenting her on her wrestler-like arms, and didn’t even notice when Ashley lifted his keys from his pocket.  
  
“Hey!” he said, when she opened the door. “You’re a _magician_!”  
  
“You owe me coffee and breakfast for this. I’m not carrying you to bed.”  
  
“Chris?”  
  
“That was Darren’s voice!” Chris said delightedly. He turned to tell Ashley of his discovery, but she didn’t seem to appreciate it. She was instead staring down the hallway with the kind of focus she usually bestowed on pornography. Chris realised he probably shouldn’t know that.    
  
“Hey Darren,” she said casually. “Any reason for the nudity?”  
  
Chris’ head snapped around to see Darren leaning out of his bedroom door, just visible down the hallway, the line of his body clear all the way from head to toe. Ashley wasn’t lying. He was completely, deliciously nude. His hipbone jutted out enticingly and Chris realised belatedly that he was licking his lips. They appeared to be working without any direction from his brain.  
  
“Just jumped out of the shower,” Darren replied. “Had a late rehearsal. Is he drunk?”  
  
Chris dragged his gaze from where it had settled on the glimpse of Darren’s thigh. “Me?” he asked, his voice more breathless than he would have liked. “I’m not drunk.”  
  
“He’s very _drunk_ ,” Ashley said, far too gleefully. “And now he’s your responsibility. See you kids later.”  
  
And then she was out the door before Chris could even say goodbye.  
  
“I didn’t even say goodbye,” Chris told Darren. “She should know I said goodbye.” His numb leg gave out and he slid down the wall until he was sprawled on the floor. It was pretty comfortable. Surprisingly comfortable for the floor.  
  
“Okay, we have to get you to bed,” Darren said. “Can you walk?” He still hadn’t moved from his place in the doorway, strategically covered in a way Chris didn’t like.  
  
“Probably not,” Chris sighed. But he felt so tired. “I’m so tired. I’ll just sleep here.”  
  
“No, Chris, that’s not a good idea. Hang on.” Darren ducked back into the bedroom and emerged momentarily with black boxers on. They were a snug fit, revealing more than the lilac towel had, to be honest. Chris wasn’t sure he could keep his eyes off what appeared to be the outline of Darren’s cock. Or maybe it was his thigh. Honestly, he needed better lighting in here. Probably spotlights. That would help.  
  
“Come on,” Darren said and grabbed Chris under the arms, hoisting him up to standing. “Time for bed.”  
  
Chris leaned a little awkwardly until he was pressed up against Darren, could smell the shower gel he’d used in the shower. He had a couple of drops of water slowly working down his shoulder. He was _delicious_. He wanted to reach his head down and lap them up with his tongue.  
  
“Here we go,” Darren said quietly, maneuvering Chris along until they were in his bedroom. Chris collapsed onto the bed immediately after Darren let go, which ended up with him sprawled on his back, legs spread around where Darren was standing. He felt his mouth go dry, and his cock try to process anything through the fog of alcohol thrumming through his blood.  
  
“Shoes off.” Darren reached down and untied his laces, slipping his shoes off quickly. “Now, unbutton that shirt and get that off.”  
  
Chris fumbled with his shirt buttons helplessly. When did they become so difficult? He sucked in a breath when Darren leant over and batted his hands away.  
  
“You owe me,” Darren said. “I expect first choice for dinner tomorrow.”  
  
Chris huffed out a laugh, closing his eyes so he couldn’t see Darren’s face up close when his defences were so low.  
  
“Whatever you want,” he said instead, voice low. Darren’s hands stilled briefly before continuing onto the last button.  
  
“You should shrug that off and then get to sleep.”  
  
Chris opened his eyes to see Darren had moved away from the bed, putting distance between them. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing when he pulled it away wet.  
  
“Goodnight Chris,” he said softly, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.  
  
Chris wriggled out of his shirt as fast as he could, shrugged off his pants until he was left in just his briefs. Screw pyjamas.  
  
He felt the room spinning behind his closed lids, and he drifted to sleep with the phantom feel of Darren’s fingers on his chest.  
  
***  
  
Chris spent the next week after his epic hangover with his head down. He hadn’t been able to make eye contact with Darren the morning afterwards, and even Darren had seemed a little subdued in the wake of Chris’ glare. Chris couldn’t remember much about that night except for vaguely embarrassing memories of wanting to eat Darren up with a spoon, but he didn’t think he had let anything slip? When Darren carried on as normal after that first morning, he assumed he was safe.  
  
Now, if only he could convince his body to catch up. Instead he found himself with sweating palms on set, a light flush on his cheeks when Blaine looked adoringly at Kurt, and a tendency to fumble his cues. It was intensely mortifying, and Chris knew he needed to shake it off before Ryan starting noticing. And he _would_ notice. God, _everyone_ would notice eventually if he kept getting tongue-tied around Darren. Like now, when Darren slid into the seat next to him and casually stole a leaf of lettuce from his plate, chewing obscenely with his mouth open. Lea, who had been prodding at Chris with her finger in an attempt to get him to talk, shrieked.  
  
“Ew! Darren, you’re disgusting.”  
  
Chris continued staring at his plate, hoping it might have some answers for him. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t. He chanced looking up only to see Darren leaning into Lea’s space and chewing loudly in her ear, laughing as she scrambled to get away.  
  
“You love me!” he giggled and pushed her over some more as she kept shouting at him.  
  
Eventually they calmed down, Darren nearly on Lea’s chair by the time they finished. Chris kept eating as calmly as he could, ignoring the way Darren’s hand had fallen onto Lea’s thigh, or the way he looked at her with his wide, gorgeous eyes.  
  
“So Chris is being weird,” Lea said. “You’re living with him at the moment -- have you noticed anything?”  
  
“Lea,” Chris hissed. “Stop it.”  
  
Darren frowned a little and darted his eyes briefly to meet Chris’.  
  
“No, I don’t think so,” he said to Lea, who was pouting at being told off. “Even if there was though, it’s his guest room I’m staying in, so...”  
  
“Oh come on!” Lea said. “You should definitely be loyal to me. I can organise it so that your coffee tastes disgusting. I have an in with catering.”  
  
“Hey now, don’t do that. That’s awful. Why would you do that?” Darren sounded so legitimately aggrieved that Chris couldn’t stop a chuckle.  
  
“Don’t mess with me, Criss,” Lea said, voice hard but Chris could see the twitching of her lips that gave her away.  
  
“She wouldn’t dare, Darren. Don’t worry,” he said, letting himself look Darren directly in the eye for the first time all day. “Cory would say it was too mean. And she pretends she’s not a bitch with him.”  
  
Lea gasped.  
  
“Plus,” Chris continued, “you’re my onscreen boyfriend. I think I have the power to make your days far more uncomfortable than a bad cup of coffee.”  
  
Darren’s eyes widened, and even Lea’s mouth dropped open.  
  
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “That is cruel even for you.”  
  
Darren’s gaze darted between them both. “God, why are you guys so mean?” he asked plaintively. “I’m going to go find Harry. He’ll be nice.”  
  
Chris resolutely did not watch his ass as he walked away. Or at least he didn’t after Lea leaned into his shoulder and sighed, breaking his concentration.  
  
“He’s adorable, isn’t he?” she sighed. “I just want to wrap him up in a cuddle and soothe his cares.”  
  
Chris bit his lip before he could agree. “You’re crazy,” he said fondly.  
  
Lea looked over at him then with her penetrating eyes -- _damn_ , he’d forgotten she had the tendency to see through him like his skin was a sieve.  
  
“I’m coming over tonight,” she said, matter of fact. “We’re going to have some drinks and watch a movie and you’re going to tell me what is going on with you at the moment. It’s unlike you, and I don’t like it.”  
  
Chris did his best puppy dog eyes.  
  
“No, won’t work!” Lea said, shielding her face. “I’ll be there at 7.”  
  
***  
  
They were halfway through _Chicago_ when Lea started shifting in the way that Chris knew was a precursor to interrogation. Sure enough, not even a minute later, she sighed heavily and grabbed the remote to pause the film.  
  
“It’s fine, really,” Chris said quickly, thinking maybe he could forestall before things got out of hand.  
  
Lea moved around until she was sitting with her legs crossed, facing him on the couch. She grabbed for one of his hands.  
  
“Chris,” she said solemnly, “you’re my best friend.”  
  
Chris nodded.  
  
“And I don’t want anything to happen to you. Ever.”  
  
Chris nodded again, wishing he had thought to bring another wine bottle over to the coffee table.  
  
“Lea, truly,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”  
  
“It’s clearly _something_. You’ve been weird all week.”  
  
And that was the problem. He _had_ been weird all week. He’d been letting this stupid crush turn him into a tongue-tied teenager, all because now he knew what Darren looked like in nothing but boxers. He’d seen the _curve of his hipbone_ for god’s sake. He put his head in his hands.  
  
“Leeeaaaaa,” he moaned. “I’ve got a problem.”  
  
“I knew it!” she said, too loud for the short distance between them. The wine was getting to her too. “I’ve narrowed it down to two things: you’re ill with an unknown disease or you’re in love. Which is it?”  
  
Chris felt his mouth drop open in shock. “ _What_? You think I’m _ill_?” he asked incredulously, before running a hand over his face. Did he look pale? Sickly? God, no wonder Darren had been eyeing him off a little strangely.  
  
“My bet was on lovestruck, to be honest,” Lea said smugly. Chris slumped back into the couch, letting his head rest heavily on the arm rest behind him.  
  
“You are the worst,” he said. Then, since apparently his mouth was functioning without his input, he said, “Did you know Darren likes to air dry after a shower?”  
  
He clamped a hand tightly over his mouth immediately, but the damage was done. Lea’s face lit up like the sun and her eyes widened beyond even her patented Rachel Berry look.  
  
“ _No_ , I did not!” she exclaimed, and leaned forward so her hands were gripping Chris’ knees uncomfortably. “Oh my _god_! Are you sleeping with him?”  
  
“No! For fuck’s sake, Lea. He’s not interested in me.” Chris closed his eyes and hoped when he opened them Lea would magically have disappeared, because he could feel the colour rising in his cheeks. Why would his complexion always betray him?  
  
Lea gasped quietly, and then, horror of all horrors, she squeezed down gently. “But you want him to be?” she asked, and the tone of her voice was suddenly too much to bear.  
  
“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Just don’t, okay?”  
  
She nodded, and then clambered forward into his lap for a hug, not even mentioning it when Chris let his head rest on her shoulder and exhale heavily into her ear.  
  
It was this moment that Darren interrupted by coming home, noisily shrugging his coat off in the entrance.    
  
“Heeeeeeey kids!” he said, staggering a little into the living room. “What’s happening here?”  
  
Chris couldn’t help the way he tensed instinctively at the sound of that voice. Lea drew back to her side of the couch, shooting him a quick look. She called out a greeting and waved while Darren weaved his way around the coffee table.  
  
“Lea. Chris,” he said, far too seriously for the amount of alcohol he appeared to have consumed. “I am the beer pong master.”  
  
Lea giggled, and Chris felt his lips quirk into the beginnings of a smile.  
  
“Where were you?” he asked curiously.  
  
Darren swayed a little before answering. “Joey’s, man. It was great. He’s got a table set up and everything. Epic battle.”  
  
Chris let his eyes wander a little, safe in the knowledge that Darren wouldn’t notice anything in his current state. Even sweaty and drunk, he still looked good. His shirt was rolled at the sleeves, exposing those muscular forearms that Chris had felt wrapped around his waist. His hair was a mess, probably because he’d been running his hands through it all night. Chris has noticed he does that when he drinks. Memorably, one night right before the encore on tour (after they took a shot to fortify their nerves), and a stage hand had to miraculously help him settle it before going on. His jeans were tight at the thighs, granting a teasing glimpse of the lines of skin that Chris had now seen with his own eyes.  
  
He wanted to see that skin again.  
  
Chris forced his eyes up to meet Darren’s again, frowning a little when he saw the glazed look on his face.  
  
“Dare? You going to hurl?” he asked, quickly evaluating the distance between the toilet and the kitchen sink.  
  
Darren swayed again and then steadied, looking into Chris’ eyes with surprising clarity.  
  
“No,” he said quietly. “I think I might take a shower.”  
  
Chris felt his breath hitch.  
  
“Okay,” he said. And then Darren was gone.  
  
Lea looked over at him, her face open and almost startled.  
  
“Chris,” she said softly. “Chris, I don’t think it’s all you.”  
  
The words sent a horribly clichéd shiver up his spine, but Chris valiantly ignored it, scoffing instead. “No,” he said, tone broaching no argument.  
  
Lea just nodded a little sadly, didn’t fight the way Chris had prepared himself for. It was disconcerting.  
  
“I’m going to go,” she said, standing up carefully and stretching her arms up over her head. “I think I’m a little drunk.”  
  
“You’re catching a cab, right?” he asked, suddenly weary and desperate for his own bed and his muddled thoughts.  
  
She nodded, then leaned in to peck him on the cheek. “It’ll be okay, babe.”  
  
Chris smiled stiffly, and didn’t flinch when she traced his cheekbone with a fingertip.  
  
“Love you,” he called as she let herself out.  
  
Chris left the mess for the morning and made his way to the bedroom, slipping out of his sweats and into his boxers and sleep shirt before sinking down onto the end of the bed. Now he just had to wait for Darren to finish in the bathroom before he could clean his teeth. While Darren was showering just a room over, all naked and slippery. He’d probably still be a bit drunk, leaning against the tile with his head on his arm. Maybe he was horny, maybe he’d spent the night rubbing up against some beautiful young thing, making her or him laugh and running his hands casually over their hips. Maybe he was getting himself off, stroking himself with a fist, having to work that little bit harder to counteract the alcohol in his veins.  
  
Chris gasped, realising he had slipped a hand into his own shorts, rubbing himself slowly. He groaned quietly at the pull on his skin, wondering if he should just grab some lube and finish properly. At that moment, the shower shut off. Before he could jump up to close his door, the bathroom door opened and Darren’s footsteps sounded down the hall.  
  
Chris fumbled with his shorts until his erection was covered, and just hoped his cheeks weren’t too pink.  
  
“Bathroom’s free,” Darren called from the doorway, the towel snug on his waist and emphasising the line of his hips.  
  
Chris just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  
  
Darren looked him over then, slowly and distinctly, his eyes trailing over his body in a way that left Chris feeling short of breath. He forced himself to hold still, to let Darren take whatever it was he was getting from this. He was so aware of where the neck of his shirt was hanging askew. It felt, suddenly, like he wasn’t the only one feeling shaken. Darren exhaled noisily, gave a minute shake of his head and smiled, almost sheepishly.  
  
“‘Night Chris,” he said, and disappeared back out of the room.  
  
Chris fell back down onto the bed with a thump and tried to calm his breathing. And his attentive cock. Remembering the look on Darren’s face as his eyes had roamed over him wasn’t helping. He thought back to Lea’s comment and let himself wonder, quietly and only for a moment, what it meant if it wasn’t just him after all.  
  
***  
  
“Okay, that’s a wrap for today. Get some rest guys, we’ve got a long day tomorrow.”  
  
Chris sighed in relief as Eric wrapped up. He felt like he’d been standing for hours on end and his feet were starting to cramp. Next to him, Darren shifted uncomfortably in his suit.  
  
“Come on,” Chris said, tugging on his arm. “Let’s go get out of costume and head home. I vote takeaway and bad TV ‘til we crash.”  
  
“That sounds _amazing_ ,” Darren moaned, although it turned into a groan when he pulled a hand through his hair. “Oh god, that’s right. My hair’s a mess.”  
  
Chris looked over and couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. It didn’t take long for Darren to notice and then he frowned. “No, no _don’t_ , Chris--, it’s hideous, come on!” he whined.  
  
Chris tugged on a strand of his fluffy, curly, insane hair and laughed. “I can’t believe they got it this wild. It _never_ looks like this,” he said, quietly awed by their hair and makeup team.  
  
Darren sighed. “It feels like there’s as much product in it now as there usually is. And it looks even more ridiculous. And I didn’t know that was possible.”  
  
They kept walking out to their trailers, side-by-side. Darren trailed Chris into his and promptly started changing out of his costume, stripping down to his navy boxer-briefs. Chris valiently kept his eyes from dropping below the waist. Once he realised his eyes were fixated on Darren’s chest instead, he wrenched his head around and focused on the wall. Walls were safe. Walls weren’t toned. And tanned. With a quick mental shake, he started his own disrobing, carefully pulling off his vest and top hat first before tackling the rest. It was surely one of Kurt’s least complicated costumes, and he was changed before Darren for the first time all season.  
  
“I miss the Dalton uniforms,” Darren whined.  
  
Chris laughed. “They took forever to get off -- plus, you never worked out that tie properly.”  
  
“Yeah, but it was so easy. Everything was the same everyday. So predictable.”  
  
“And now you’re stuck rotating through disaster after disaster like me,” Chris said in a fake soothing tone. Darren grumbled and gathered up his pile to drop into Costume on the way to the car park.  
  
“At least you get to wear socks,” he griped, and led the two of them down the stairs.  
  
“I don’t know,” Chris said, thinking back over some of his more, uh, _inventive_ outfits. “Next time you’re in a onesie, maybe you can let me know how that goes for you.”  
  
Darren hitched out a laugh, and Chris watched the way his throat moved surreptitiously, drinking in the curve of his broad shoulders. He wondered briefly when he had turned into a constantly horny teenager.  
  
“The bowties, Chris,” Darren said in the tone of someone prepared to win an argument. “With polo shirts.”  
  
Chris hummed an agreement, choosing to hold onto his triumph -- the incredibly strange assortment of hat pieces that Kurt frequently wore -- until another time.  
  
“Come on then,” he said, linking his arm with Darren’s and ignoring the heat where their skin pressed together. “Let’s get rid of this.”  
  
Together they dropped off their costumes to the harried looking women currently hanging up Lea’s dress and muttering about dry cleaning.  
  
“It’s your turn to order,” Chris said as they reached his car, sliding into the front seat. “You made me do it last time and didn’t even tell me what you wanted to order beforehand. You know I’m mean when I improvise. The poor girl couldn’t even respond. It was awful.”  
  
“Fine! Just drive, and I’ll ring.”  
  
Darren was charming as always on the phone, flirting lightly with the person on the other end and occasionally catching Chris’ eye while saying something bordering on outrageous. Chris tried to hold in his laughter and ignored the clenching in his chest when Darren’s eyes glinted in the headlights of a passing car.  
  
***  
  
They walked in the door together, squeezing through the space at the same time before rushing into the kitchen. Darren suggested whoever gets in last had to do the (admittedly minimal) washing up, which meant they promptly raced each other out of the car, Darren nearly tripping and narrowly avoiding smashing his face into the driveway. Chris had doubled over laughing, which gave Darren enough time to recover and resulted in their frantic last second dash.  
  
“I WON!” Darren gasped as he slid heavily into the kitchen counter. “Told you that socks would be an advantage.”  
  
Chris just huffed out a snort, trying to recover his breathing. “Ohh man, I don’t really feel hungry right now,” he said, one hand wrapped protectively around his stomach.  
  
“Well that’s good,” Darren said, flinging his dirty socks off into the living room and pointedly ignoring Chris’ glare, “because I need to get this gunk out of my hair. Stat.”  
  
Chris sighed. “I’m never letting you watch _Grey’s Anatomy_ again.”  
  
Darren threw Chris a smirk over his shoulder as he padded to the bathroom. “I thought you said I looked a bit like McDreamy?”  
  
Chris felt the blood pulse into his cheeks and cursed his fair complexion. Again. “I did _not_ ,” he countered, despite clearly remembering a drunken night where Lea and Chris had detailed how Darren was McDreamy, and Mark was McSteamy. And would it be wrong to have Chord as Arizona? He had such golden hair.  
  
“Did too,” Darren laughed, stripping off his t-shirt. Chris watched idly as the planes of his back were exposed, his eyes drinking in his smooth skin and cataloguing the muscles visible just above the waistline of his pants. He was nearly nonchalant about the whole thing, which suggested that Darren’s casual approach to nudity after showering was becoming a significant problem.  
  
“Well, not with that hair, that’s for sure.”  
  
Chris smiled widely at the frown on Darren’s face. He ducked into the bathroom and turned the water on, keeping the door ajar. Chris leaned against the wall outside and listened to Darren’s rambling reasons for being like Derek Shepherd.  
  
“I mean, the man probably has a bit of height on me, I’ll give him that. But I’m totally dreamy! All my fans say so!”  
  
“Sure, Dare,” Chris said, the noise of the shower soothing over him and making him realise just how sore his feet were. He let them slide out underneath him until he sitting on the floor, back pressed up against the wall. He might not admit it often, but he loved having someone else in the house with him. Coming home seemed more relaxing when he could talk through the day with Darren and let his brain switch off.  
  
“And he’s a surgeon -- a neurosurgeon no less -- with great dexterity. I’m excellent with my hands, thank you very much.”  
  
Chris snorted loudly, and Darren paused. “Oh. Oops, I meant, you know -- with a guitar!” Chris laughed aloud until Darren chuckled as well. “Oh, fuck off,” he grumbled good-naturedly.  
  
The shower droned on, and Chris let his mind wander. Darren was quiet now -- he probably had his head under the water, massaging shampoo into his scalp, desperately trying to rid his hair of the product fused into it. He had a vigorous hair routine thanks to the days of tough-hold gel, and although Chris teased him about it regularly (whoever thought he wouldn’t have the most product in the shower?), he knew it was tiresome.  
  
He pictured Darren’s eyes closed tightly against the intrusion of water, his mouth open enough to get air into his lungs while the water ran down his face, glistening against his skin. Surely he was the only man who could look good under fluorescent light.  
  
 _Oh_. That was another thing he shared with Derek Shepherd. How convenient. He opened his mouth to tell Darren of his discovery, but the water shut off suddenly and reminded him that he shouldn’t be telling his co-worker about how fantastic he looked in bathroom lighting. Just because Darren was raising the stakes for most unprofessional house behaviour didn’t mean Chris wanted to be in the running.  
  
“Hey Chris?” Darren called before poking his head out of the bathroom door. Chris looked up and met his eyes, trying his damndest not the notice the water drop on his earlobe or imagining the sound Darren might make if he licked it off.  
  
“Yeah?” he asked, voice only fractionally higher than usual.  
  
“I left my towel in my room, so can you just close your eyes for a second?”  
  
Chris did as he was told and hoped the colour in his cheeks wasn’t too obvious. He felt the air move around him as Darren tiptoed past and he couldn’t stop from licking his lips when a drop of water landed on his toes. He huffed out a breathy laugh, and cracked his eyes open a sliver, just enough to catch a glimpse of Darren tiptoeing down the hallway with one hand curled protectively around his crotch and his skin flushed from the heat of the water. Chris wanted to bite into the cheek of his ass so badly he had to bite his tongue to stop from saying so out loud.  
  
“I swear I saw this in an episode of _Grey’s_ ,” he said cheekily instead, because apparently he couldn’t help himself. Darren’s head whipped around and his eyes widened when he saw Chris looking at him. He glimpsed down at himself quickly, as if to check all was covered, before a rueful grin spread on his face.  
  
“Oh come on, Dare,” Chris said. “No point getting shy now. You’ve been prancing around here mostly naked for weeks.”  
  
Chris didn’t know where this newfound courage was coming from, but he blamed the exhaustion and starvation he was currently feeling. Darren looked away again and -- wait, was he _blushing_?  
  
“ _Mostly naked_ and _naked_ aren’t the same thing,” he said primly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some clothes on so you stop eye-fucking me.”  
  
Chris gasped at the sheer audacity of that statement, and called out just before Darren could shut the bedroom door.  
  
“You’re the one with the exhibitionist kink!”  
  
He just caught Darren’s laugh before the door clicked into place.  
  
If dinner that night was a little more awkward than usual, Chris blamed it on Darren’s uncommon yet endearing shyness and the absolutely adorable way Darren ducked his head whenever Chris stared too long.  
  
***  
  
The following week was a mess of near misses, infused with extra tension thanks to the way Darren’s gaze tended to linger a little longer and Chris kept getting caught out staring.  
  
Like the time that Chris stumbled out of his bedroom after a late night on set, his hair askew and barely conscious when he ran into Darren ironing his clothes in the nude.  
  
He’d retreated pretty quickly, still hazy with sleep, and when he re-emerged there was a steaming cup of coffee on the bench and Darren nowhere to be seen.  
  
And then the time he’d come out of the shower himself, wrapped neatly in his towel despite being alone in the house -- or so he’d thought -- and found Darren in a matching towel sitting on the couch watching TV.  
  
He looked up when Chris stopped and he could feel Darren’s eyes trailing over his chest briefly before he grinned sheepishly, and said, “It’s raining outside?”  
  
Chris just sighed. And then went and jerked off on his bed, biting into his hand so Darren wouldn’t hear.  
  
When he came home one night to find Darren dancing naked around the coffee table, Chris just turned around and went out again, furiously trying to forget the image of Darren’s muscular thighs and butt.  
  
After spending a restless night on Ashley’s couch, he decided that enough was enough.  
  
***  
  
Chris jumped out of his car and lugged his laptop bag over his shoulder. He was looking forward to getting inside and writing down the ideas he’d been hit with during his scene today. He knew from painful experience that if he didn’t get it down within the next 24 hours, it would start to trickle out of his brain and disappear in a haze of missed opportunities.  
  
He was surprisingly energetic considering the length of time he’d been dancing today. Zach pushed them hard and he felt his muscles beginning to protest despite the care he’d taken at warm down. Although he supposed spending half of that time in a dance off with Amber may not have helped matters.  
  
He fumbled with his keys at the door before finally managing to twist the doorknob.  
  
“Honey, I’m home!” he called before dropping things progressively as he made his way into the living room.  
  
Where he was greeted by a naked Darren. Completely naked, no towel in sight, Darren.  
  
“Oh my god!” he shouted before slamming his hands up in front of his eyes. Luckily he did so, because his eyes made absolutely _no_ attempt to close on their own accord, leaving him tracing the lines of his palms in minute detail.  
  
“Chris! What are you doing home?” Darren asked, sounding a little panicked. Chris risked a peek, and saw Darren trying to find something to cover himself with. He groaned when Darren’s gaze fell on the DVD case lying on the coffee table.  
  
“Don’t you dare put your junk near my copy of _Moulin Rouge_ , Criss.”  
  
Darren froze, his gaze meeting Chris’ nervously. And that was it. Chris was tired of his house being taken over by a devastatingly attractive nudist. _Enough_.  
  
“Seriously?” he asked, his voice dripping with tension.  
  
Darren just stayed painstakingly still despite Chris lowering his hands and fixing him with a patented Colfer glare.  
  
“I get that you like to air dry, and I can see you’re using the fan to the best of its ability right now. But this is _my_ house and I _insist_ on clothes!”  
  
Chris’ breath was coming shorter now, a combination of his stern words and the effort of not letting his eyes wander to take in what he really wanted to see. He didn’t think he could go back if he saw Darren’s cock. Dreaming and jerking off to his chest and shoulders was one thing. Chris had to clench his jaw hard enough to hurt to keep himself focused and it was enough of a distraction that he nearly missed the flush crawling up Darren’s cheeks and, oh _god_ , the top of his chest.  
  
“Uhhh,” Darren murmured. “You, um, should probably not yell at me when I’m naked,” he said. “You’re giving me a complex.”  
  
“Me?” Chris spluttered. “Giving _you_ a complex? What do you think I feel like when you prance about here showing off your--” he trailed off and made a futile gesture that hopefully encompassed Darren’s entire body. His useless, incredibly distressing, tanned, fit, trimmed, physically superior body.  
  
Jesus. He was a fifteen year old girl.  
  
“You have one more week. And then I am kicking your naked ass out,” he said, and took a vindictive pleasure in the way Darren’s face fell.  
  
Then, Chris spun dramatically on his heel and stormed out. Lea would have alcohol and would let him wallow in despair without laughing. Too much.  
  
***  
  
Chris spent the night drinking heavily with Lea, moaning loudly about Darren’s ability to turn Chris into a teenager who blushes and sports untimely erections on a regular basis and his inability to wear clothes.  
  
Lea, to her credit, only laughed hysterically once and managed to keep herself down to mild chuckles for the rest of the evening. Eventually she poured him into her guest bed when his feet no longer supported him and his words stopped making sense.    
  
His mind was fuzzy, the tequila making him feel loose and warm, and he told Lea so when she leant over to tuck him in. She brushed his fringe away from his eyes and smiled at him fondly.  
  
“I want you to remember this tomorrow, babe,” she says, “when you’re suffering from the hangover from hell.”  
  
She paused, briefly. “Actually, you really shouldn’t drink this much. It isn’t healthy.”  
  
Chris tried and failed to bite at her hand, teeth snapping loudly. He felt it was an appropriate response.  
  
“Just promise me you’ll think before throwing Darren out. Is it really because of his shower habits? Or maybe because you like him?”  
  
Chris blinked, Lea’s words thick like a blanket. He thought about Darren’s naked back and the way water rolled down his hips. He thought about the way his muscles had moved when he’d clambered over Chris in the hallway. He thought about the shy look on his face when Chris called him out on his exhibitionism. Or when he caught Darren staring at Chris’ naked chest that one ( _one_?) time. And then he thought about the way Darren had helped him to bed when he was drunk after seeing Ashley. And the way he took so much care to make sure Blaine was appropriately complex and authentic. And how he genuinely made Chris laugh on set with his ridiculous, somewhat childish antics. And his face when Chris told him he’d have to move out.  
  
Chris’ heart clenched painfully in his chest and he was suddenly and embarrassingly emotional. He tried to discreetly wipe away the tears in his eyes, but Lea caught his hand and just looked at him so fondly that he couldn’t stop.  
  
“You’re really drunk right now, so I’m not going to hold this against you. But we are going to have a chat soon about processing your emotions, okay?” Lea pulled the sheet up over him and he snuggled down into the pillow, unable to keep his eyes open. He was breathing heavily through his mouth, his stomach heavy with booze and emotion.  
  
“Love you,” he whispered, and was asleep before Lea even left the room, dreaming of golden skin and warm brown eyes.  
  
***  
  
Darren didn’t say anything when he stumbled in the next day around lunchtime. Chris vaguely noticed that he was definitely clothed, but mostly he just grunted and continued on to his bedroom where he passed out for another few hours.  
  
When he emerged for dinner, Darren wasn’t there. After a brief panic and frantic check of the guest room, Chris rationalised that he’d just gone out. He hadn’t _left_. Hadn’t done exactly what Chris threatened to do. He still had time.  
  
And thus began Chris’ plan to confront his own feelings (first step, acknowledging that they _were_ feelings rather than maintaining he was merely lusting over his co-star), and then establish if Lea’s intuition was correct about Darren’s intentions. The morning after the “walk-out incident” as Lea was calling it, she had sat him down at her dining table and force fed him eggs and panadol until his headache subsided, and said she thought Darren was interested in him. She’d patiently cleaned up the juice he inadvertently spat over her table cloth, and then repeated herself. Chris had gaped, shaken his head, gaped some more, before conceding that Darren did seem to be exchanging looks with him on a more frequent basis. Plus, you know, the _nudity_ thing.  
  
Right. Chris was resolved. He had a plan. In three days he would have his answer. And he’d hopefully have some great sex to go along with it. Either that, or he’d be down a housemate and a friend.  
  
He left a note on Darren’s pillow that said _Don’t move out yet_ , and got to work.  
  
***  
  
 _Colfer Seduction, Day 1: Flirty conversation._  
  
“I loved your interpretation of Puck. Very authentic.”  
  
“Thanks Chris. You too.”  
  
“Oh, stop! After this long it isn’t too hard to slip into Cory.”  
  
Chris’ eyes widened. “Oh! I mean--, um...”  
  
Darren snorted into his hand.  
  
“Shut up,” Chris said grumpily.  
  
***  
  
 _Colfer Seduction, Day 2: Playful touching_.  
  
“Cut!” Eric shouted. “Chris, can you stop groping Darren? I know Kurt and Blaine are excited about their nationals moment, but let’s not get too handsy, okay?”  
  
Chris smiled tightly and willed the blood away from his face, pointedly ignoring where Darren was chuckling next to him.  
  
“Stop it!” he whispered forcefully. Darren just grinned wider.  
  
“What?” he said innocently, and if Darren Criss was innocent, then the world should be worried. “I just didn’t realise Kurt was so affectionate.”  
  
Determined to salvage what he could, Chris arched an eyebrow and said in a low voice, “Maybe it isn’t Kurt who’s being affectionate.”  
  
Watching Darren trip over his first steps when Eric called action was intensely satisfying.  
  
***  
  
 _Colfer Seduction, Day 3: Desperate Measures_.  
  
Chris stood in the bathroom. He tried not to glimpse himself in the mirror, knowing if he saw his pasty skin he’d chicken out. He was wet, his hair was dripping, he looked -- well, probably like a sixteen year old boy. Still, the plan had yet to yield anything useful. Darren had started looking at him like he was more odd than usual, and if he had been checking out his ass or doing anything hinting at his deep, hidden love for Chris -- well, Chris hadn’t noticed it so far. It was time to pull out the big guns.  
  
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened the bathroom door and strolled out into the living room to where Darren was playing Xbox. _Don’t make eye contact_ , he repeated helplessly to himself, ignoring the way Darren twitched when he noticed Chris’ dramatic, naked entrance. Chris headed straight to the basket of laundry he’d carefully placed earlier, and crouched down to sort through it, ass facing Darren. His face was burning, and he could hear Darren spluttering behind him, and heat just pulsed through him.  
  
Chris wasn’t a particularly kinky guy, but they’d been flirting with this exhibitionism for weeks now, and he could feel his cock start to respond at the phantom feel of Darren’s eyes on his ass. Jesus Christ, he was naked in the _living room_.    
  
“Uhh, Chris?” Darren asked, voice strained.  
  
Chris swallowed and then turned enough so that he could crane his neck around and see Darren.  
  
“Yeah?” he asked, voice as light as he could make it considering he was _naked in front of Darren, oh god oh god_.  
  
“You’re uhhh--,” Darren said, weakly waving a hand at Chris’ form. Chris took a moment to drink him in, his other hand clenched into a fist, his chest visibly moving with his breath. He was stupidly breathtaking, despite the tension currently radiating off him.  
  
“Yes,” Chris replied calmly. “I thought I might even the playing field a little. This way neither of us have to feel embarrassed and can move on to a casual nudity free home.” He smiled brightly, and then turned back to the clothes.  
  
“Right,” Darren murmured behind him.  
  
Chris found the pair of briefs, jeans, and a t-shirt that he’d planted and pulled them out. He stood up, wincing slightly at the burn in his thighs. Maybe he needed to stretch a little more this afternoon.  
  
“Is that what it was like for you?”  
  
Chris startled and dropped the briefs. He heard rustling as Darren stood up from the couch. Chris froze, suddenly unable to read the situation.  
  
“What?” he whispered.  
  
“Is this how it felt when you were watching me?” Darren’s voice was pitched low, and was coming closer. Chris’ whole body shivered when he felt the warmth of Darren’s breath on his shoulder.  
  
“I just want to touch you everywhere,” Darren said, and Chris spun around so fast he nearly overbalanced.  
  
“Oh _god_ ,” he said, and grabbed Darren’s stupid face between his hands and kissed him. Darren responded immediately, surging into Chris’ grasp and immediately running his hands over his back. The heat of his palms felt amazing and Chris groaned into Darren’s mouth, delighting when he felt Darren shudder in response. He broke away for air, his chest heaving and heart pounding. Darren’s eyes were frantic and Chris leant their foreheads together in an attempt to calm him down.  
  
“Jesus,” Chris said, letting his breath slow. “You’re a fucking idiot.”  
  
Darren huffed out a laugh and settled his hands on Chris’ hips, fingers moving slightly over the bare skin.  
  
“Me?” Darren asked. “God, I’ve been flirting for weeks!”  
  
Chris felt his mouth drop open in what was uncertainly an unflattering manner. “Flirting?” he asked incredulously. “Please, _please_ tell me you don’t think running around the house naked is flirting.”  
  
Darren just grinned. “Got you to look, didn’t it?”  
  
Chris blinked disbelievingly. “Oh my god. You _are_ an idiot.”  
  
“A _fucking_ idiot, I think you said. Emphasis on the fucking, please,” Darren responded, grinning cheekily.  
  
Chris laughed then, relieved enough to let it roll out of him at length. This entire month had been wasted by Darren’s inept flirting techniques and Chris’ preoccupation with Darren’s body over his own feelings. They were useless. He breathed deeply, drinking in the scent of Darren in his arms, and mentally congratulated himself for his naked plan. Despite hiccups, it appeared to have paid off.  
  
Suddenly, Darren stepped out of the bracket of his arms, a wicked smirk on his face.  
  
“I have an idea,” he said, and sank to his knees. Chris’ cock, which had just _barely_ been behaving, sprang immediately to full attention, and Chris watched in disbelief as Darren casually took it in hand and leaned in to suck on the head. The wet heat of Darren’s mouth was intense after the cool air of the living room and Chris bucked instinctively, apologising even while wishing he could thrust into that sinful mouth.  
  
“Fuck,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes off Darren’s face, the way his fully-clothed body contrasted with his own. Suddenly his jerk-off fantasies became useless, permanently ruined by the image of the real thing, and the way Darren’s eyes fluttered whenever he took Chris a little too deep and the way one hand splayed tightly over Chris’ ass.  
  
“God, I love your ideas,” Chris sighed. “Although I’d love it more if you were naked.”  
  
Darren pulled off his cock with a wet sound that made Chris’ ass clench involuntarily. That _tongue_. And then Darren was standing, hands moving quickly to pull his shirt off over his head, fumbling with the zip on his pants until Chris took over, slowly pulling it down and shoving the waistband over his hips. Chris bit his lip as Darren bent over to remove his boxers, all that skin unveiled -- but this time only for him. He let his gaze wander from head to toe, and realised that even though he had seen it before, nothing could have prepared him for seeing Darren’s cock flushed and hard.  
  
“I should just leave you here,” he said quietly, “in punishment for all that distracting teasing that you apparently call flirting.”  
  
He walked around Darren then, like he was a piece of artwork, letting a hand reach out and trail along his favourite parts. He touched his shoulders, watching the skin jump under his fingers, the dimples in his back, the delicious curve of his ass. Unable to stop himself, Chris stepped forward and cupped Darren’s ass in his hands, two palmfuls of warm muscle. It was _magnificent_.  
  
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” he said, leaning to speak right into Darren’s ear. Darren shivered obviously, and made the most delightful noise when Chris snuck a hand around to cup his dick.  
  
“Yes,” Darren groaned. “ _Please_.”  
  
Chris tugged him then, walking them backwards until he collapsed on the couch and pulled Darren awkwardly onto his lap. He shuffled them around until Darren was positioned in between his spread legs, letting his cock push up against Darren’s back. His hands were moving already, learning the planes of his body by feel. Chris gently tweaked at Darren’s nipples and grinned into his shoulder at the response. He started to stroke Darren, long, even strokes that had him panting quickly, unravelling in his arms.  
  
“Chris--, uhhh, _fuck_ ,” Darren moaned, and Chris couldn’t help the way his hips twitched up against Darren’s skin, the rough friction just stopping him from losing himself in the sensation. Darren tossed his head back, enough that Chris could latch on to the skin underneath his jaw, sucking a bruise into the flesh. Makeup was going to kill him, but in this moment, he needed Darren to be marked by him, a reminder that he was the one who made him feel this way.  
  
“I want you to fuck me,” Darren said, and Chris’ hips bucked up again at that, a keening noise falling from his mouth.  
  
“Won’t make it,” Chris panted into his ear. “I want you to come, spread open like this for me, all over your stomach.”  
  
Darren moaned loudly, and his hips started thrusting into the circle of Chris’ hand.  
  
“Right here in the living room, you filthy boy,” Chris growled. “This is what you deserve for teasing me.”  
  
He grabbed one of Darren’s legs with his free hand and hitched it up and over Chris’, spreading Darren open wider.  
  
“Come on, Dare,” he said, and bit into Darren’s shoulder. Darren gasped loudly, hips bucking wildly, and came hard, pulsing up onto his stomach and over Chris’ hand. Chris gently stroked him through it, his other hand soothing over his trembling thigh. He tried to ignore the pressing urgency of his own want, the way Darren’s body brushed up against him with every panted breath.  
  
“Uhhh, _Chris_ ,” Darren said, and shifted about in his arms until he had spun around and was pressing Chris into the arm of the couch. “Jesus, that was hot,” he gasped before bringing their mouths together messily. Chris groaned deeply when he realised Darren was pressing his come-covered stomach against him, his cock rutting upwards on instinct, sliding through the slick.  
  
“Your turn,” Darren said, and slid a hand in between them, letting Chris buck into his loose fist, all wet and sloppy, and Darren was breathing heavily into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick his lips and slip inside. It was hot, so hot, the weight of Darren on him, and he couldn’t believe this was really happening.  
  
“I would think of this in the shower,” Darren said, gripping his hand a little tighter and smiling when Chris punched out a groan. “I’d imagine you blowing me, or maybe pressing me up against the tile and fucking me without my feet touching the ground.”  
  
“Jesus _fuck_.” Chris tried to keep breathing, but his abs were tightening and he could feel heat burst in his stomach, his orgasm ready to rush through him.  
  
“Or you licking into my ass out here, with me leaning against the window, bent over where anyone could see me.”  
  
Darren’s voice, the images he was painting, his tight, hot grip on his cock -- it was too much, it was everything. Chris came spectacularly, pulsing long, hot stripes of come on to his and Darren’s chest. He was gasping for breath, shaking with the aftermath, and then wincing at the oversensitivity.  
  
“Fuck, fuck,” he whined, and Darren let go. Instantly, the feeling waned, but then Darren lifted his hand and casually licked his fingers clean and Chris felt his groin twitch uncomfortably.  
  
“You’re going to kill me,” he said seriously. Darren started laughing then, and he looked so happy and fucking _beautiful_ that Chris grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a heartfelt kiss. When they broke apart, Darren was beaming.  
  
“Shower?” he asked.  
  
Chris nodded eagerly -- the feel of drying come already unpleasant.  
  
“Only if we get to air dry later,” Chris replied, and pushed Darren unceremoniously off the couch onto the floor.  
  
“Hey!” Darren said, outraged, as Chris darted up and down the hallway. “You banned casual nudity!”  
  
Chris ducked into the bathroom and started the water, waiting for Darren to follow him. “Well, let’s make it intentional nudity,” he said when Darren walked inside, and then pushed him into the shower cubicle.  
  
“Okay,” Darren said. Chris looked down at his slowly hardening cock and smiled wickedly. He sank to his knees in a mirror of Darren’s earlier move.  
  
“What were those fantasies again?” he asked before proceeding to give Darren the blow job of his life.  
  
Intentional nudity seemed like a _fantastic_ idea.  
  
- _fin_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-d. Tidied up and reposted. Originally filled anon on the GKM.


End file.
